Wanderlust
by tuesdaymidnight
Summary: Haunted by the ghosts of his past, Jasper leaves Texas and hits the road, armed with a guitar and his mouth. Tied for Winner of the Judges Vote in the Dirty Talking Jasper Contest. AU/AH/OOC. Rated M.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** This was my entry for the Dirty Talking Jasper Contest. It tied for first place in the judge's round with the lovely SingleStrand. I just want to thank the hosts, judges and fellow participants for a great contest and for helping plant this idea in my head! See the other entries at www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/~dirtytalkingjasper and check out the gorgeous banner made by UNF4Rob at twitpic(dot)com/44hzn9

Thank you to coolbreeeze for her beta work. I love your DNA, bb. ;)

* * *

In _Stagecoach_, Ringo Kid said, "There's some things a man just can't run away from."

The Duke was probably right, but damn if I'm not gonna try.

I didn't even say goodbye when I left. I just packed all my worldly possessions into my old Bronco and took off. It didn't amount to much, just some clothes, a few books, records, and my old, beat up acoustic guitar. The whole fucking state of Texas could kiss my ass as far as I was concerned. It was made abundantly clear that there wasn't anything there for me, and I wasn't much welcome to stay.

I made two phone calls on the way. The first was to mama to tell her I was okay. If I was being honest, she was the only reason I stayed as long as I did, but she was better off with me gone. Even if she'd never admit it.

The lies she told for me hurt my heart, but the truths I kept from her damn near broke it.

"You're a good man, Jasper Whitlock," she told me over the phone that morning.

The way she said it almost made me believe it. Almost.

The first place I went was Memphis, Tennessee. My second phone call had been to Peter, announcing my arrival. It was only a long day's drive, but every hour out of San Antonio was one more weight off my shoulders. I didn't realize how much of a burden I was carrying until I started putting miles between me and my demons. As soon as I crossed over the mighty Mississippi, I felt like I was finally able to breathe again for the first time in as long as I could remember.

It's amazing what crossing a bridge can do.

It was something different anyway, and different was what I needed.

My arms were full of a petite blond as soon as I stepped out of my car. I lifted her up and spun her around while she giggled. I laughed with her. It was the first time I could remember laughing in earnest since back when I was running around like a fool in high school. Hard living has a way of sucking the laughter out of you. I just didn't know that's what I had been missing.

"I take it Peter announced my arrival," I said as I set her down with a grin.

"I've been baking all day," she said as she grabbed my hand and pulled me into their little house.

Peter arrived from work shortly thereafter, and the three of us sat around the kitchen table late into the night just talking and reminiscing. It was easy to fall into our old rhythm. We talked about the good times we had being stupid kids and steered away from topics that would remind us of why it had been a good five years since I had last seen them.

"I don't think I could eat another bite," I said to Charlotte after she offered yet another piece of cornbread. "I didn't say it before, but y'all have got a nice place here. Clean living suits you."

Peter laughed as he offered me a smoke.

I took the proffered cigarette from him while searching my pockets for the matchbook that I knew was stashed in one of them.

"Outside!" Charlotte scolded.

Peter bent down and planted a soft kiss on her forehead before leading me out of the house.

"What happened to the Jasper I used to know?" Peter said as he took a drag of the Marlboro, leaning against the railing of their front porch.

"He's right here, Pete," I said slowly. "Try as I might, I can't shake him."

"Nah," Peter studied my face. "You've changed. Whether you know it or not."

"Well then you tell me," I offered him a smile that a blind man could have see through.

"You want me to take the bait? I'll take the bait," Peter said as he took another long drag. "You're quieter than you used to be. Less of an asshole, but I don't know, not necessarily in a good way. It's like you've lost your impulsive streak all together...like you're afraid of the bogeyman, all the while knowing he doesn't exist."

"Is that such a bad thing?" I asked defensively.

"What did he do to you?" Peter's voice was barely a whisper.

"Well now, Pete," I spat. "I'm just not quite sure which 'he' you mean."

"Easy, Jasper," he said to me as if I were a spooked horse, putting a hand on my arm.

"Sorry, man," I said immediately.

"I didn't-"

I cut him off. "Talked to mama this morning. A whole lot of bad memories have been going through my mind all day."

He didn't try to say anything else this time. He didn't need to. Peter missed a lot of the last five years of my life, but he knew enough and he knew how I grew up. Instead of using words, he grabbed me and pulled me to him, enveloping me in a tight embrace. After a few seconds, I went to step back, but he held on. His hand went up to the back of my neck. I took the hint and brought my face down to bury in his shoulder. Tears threatened my eyes as he swayed gently.

With his other arm, he pulled me even closer until our hips were pressed together.

That was all it took, and the mood between us changed.

Peter's hands slid down my back and came to my ass. He grabbed it and thrust against me roughly.

"For old time's sake?" I groaned.

"Char won't mind," Peter whispered.

I never needed him more than I did in that moment, and somehow he knew it.

I grabbed hold of his chin and tilted his lips up to meet mine. His hands came up almost immediately into my hair, tugging it just the way I liked. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, but I pressed my hard-on up against him to let him know anyway.

"Now see what you've done?" I said in a low voice. "You've gone and got my dick hard and now you're going to have to do something about it."

"Come inside," he said as he pulled away.

"I plan to," I replied as I let him drag me back into the house.

We ran into Charlotte in the living room. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and a jacket draped over her arm.

I dropped Peter's hand immediately.

"I'm going over to Mary's," she announced. She looked thoughtful for a moment before she smiled and kissed both of us on the cheek.

"Okay," Peter agreed. "Goodnight, Char."

"See you boys in the morning," she called to us over her shoulder.

My voice was stuck in my throat.

It was Peter who broke the silence between us as the door clicked shut.

"She's okay with this, I promise."

"But-"

"It's not cheating when it's with you," he insisted.

Given our history, I knew he believed what he was saying. Charlotte had watched us fuck on more than one occasion, so it was at least reasonable to think she'd be okay with it. Before, even a year ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. Maybe Peter was right, maybe I had changed, or at least I had some souvenir scars on my heart.

I didn't have any more time to mull it over because then he was right in front of me. I closed my eyes and his warm breath hit my ear.

"Please," he whispered.

It was the 'please' that did me in, and the familiarity of it all came back. My eyes snapped open, and I grabbed him by the back of his neck and kissed him hard.

"Fuck yeah," he groaned when I moved my lips to his neck.

My hands went up under his shirt and I rubbed my thumbs lightly across his nipples.

"You like that don't you?" I asked as I brushed over them again.

"You remember," he croaked.

Who was he kidding? I knew every inch of his body.

"I also seem to remember you liked it when my mouth was full of your balls," I responded.

I unzipped his jeans while I walked him backward. When the back of his knees hit the front of the couch, he helped me push off his jeans and boxers.

"Sit down," I ordered. "Let my tongue get reacquainted."

He slouched down on the couch and spread his legs wide so I could sit between them on the floor. My knees creaked a little as I knelt down. I silently cursed my younger self for the damage I'd done. I wasn't yet 30, but the hard years that had passed were already catching up to me.

I ignored my body and focused on Peter's, lowering my head down into his groin and sticking my tongue out to lick up his ball sac. I lapped at the wrinkled skin like it was a fucking ice cream cone until Peter was squirming.

"Fuck you taste good," I moaned a little. I couldn't help myself. Peter's was the first cock I ever sucked, and it became the standard by which I measured all others.

I licked up his length and rubbed my tongue back and forth across his slit.

"God, I love your dick," I said between licks.

"Then quit fucking talking to it and suck it," Peter whined. He hated being teased and he knew I knew it.

"Come on, now," I said leaning back. "You love my dirty mouth."

"Yeah, I love it when it's being useful, not when it's giving a play-by-play."

"Liar," I said, right before I took his dick deep in my mouth.

"Fucking right," Peter said as his hands came up to my head to keep me in place.

I didn't mind a bit and went to work. The things he liked all came flooding back to me. It was when I used my right hand to start playing with his balls that he started gripping my hair tighter.

I came up off his cock for a second.

"That's it, fuck my mouth."

"Oh shit," he cried out at my request.

I plunged back down on his dick, taking him deep and using my tongue, while Peter started thrusting up ever so slightly. He always liked a little bit of pain to set him over the edge, so I grazed my teeth just slightly up and down his shaft.

"Jazz!" He shouted out my old nickname right before his cum filled my mouth. I swallow it down, keeping my mouth around him until he stopped twitching.

He leaned his head back on the couch, and I watched his chest as it heaved. His dick was still resting against his abdomen.

He looked down at me and shot me an easy grin.

"What do you want, Whitlock?"

"Like you need to ask," I rolled my eyes up at him.

"Give me a minute," he held up a hand. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Funny we can't get around that," I said as I stood up, cracking my back. I found one of the bags I brought into the house and pulled out my lube. I hesitated before grabbing a condom too. Peter and I had never used them before, but we were young then.

When I returned to the couch, Peter had moved. He was kneeling on the cushions, his arms resting on the back so his ass was sticking out.

"Fuck, you look hot," I catcalled, followed by a whistle.

"Shut up and fuck me," he said over his shoulder.

"That's what I like to hear," I said as I came up behind him and put my hands on his ass.

I got him ready for my cock, using a finger to stretch him. As soon as it was inside him, he started moaning.

"I've missed this tight ass of yours, Petey," I growled. "When was the last time you had a real cock inside you?"

Instead of answering the question, he groaned and shoved his ass back. I wondered if I had been his last. He and Charlotte had been more or less together since we were kids, but I didn't know when they got really serious.

I entered him slowly, pushing until I was all the way in, my hips flush with his ass.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight."

I pulled out and pushed back in. And again. Letting him get used to the feeling.

"I'm gonna come faster than I did the first time we did this."

He laughed at that, and I could feel some tension leave his body.

"You were a two-pump chump that night," he teased.

"But I got better fast," I hissed, pushing back into his body harder. "I got a lot fucking better."

"Shit yeah, you did," Peter moaned, and I knew I was hitting the right place.

"You won't find a better dick than mine," I asserted as a pumped in and out, faster and faster.

Despite my boasting, I was getting close to losing my load. I grabbed tight onto Peter's hips and let go of my last bit of control.

"Goddamn, fucking shit," I said through gritted teeth. "Are you ready for it? Are you ready to take my fucking DNA?"

Peter let out a strangled laugh. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Do I need to give you an anatomy lesson later?" I asked with a grunt as I drilled home.

Peter's response was nonsensical, but it didn't matter what he said because then I was coming and nothing else mattered.

We slept on the couch that night. It was uncomfortable as hell for two grown men to share, but I couldn't bring myself to sleep in the bed when I had chased Char out of the house. Peter didn't seem too inclined to let go of me either, but we woke up stiff and aching and Peter bitched at me about it for the rest of the day.

Things were all right with Pete and Char. I never did touch him again after that first night, at least not sexually. It would have been easy and Peter would have been willing, but without any words between us, we knew it was just a temporary patch over an old wound that ran too deep. They did give me free reign of their couch, and Charlotte cooked almost every night. I wasn't used to that. I did notice that my body was starting to fill out a little more. I started to feel more human.

More like myself.

Memphis, though, Memphis was something else. There was a bar every other block and a church on the rest. No lie, I could walk to a different bar every night and pray at a different church every morning. There was a feeling in the city I couldn't place. It was like the air was static-charged, and it would only take a spark of some kind to set it on fire.

I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.

I met Randall at a place called The Buccaneer. It wasn't the kind of place where you'd bust a nut in the bathroom, but we both laid our cards out on the table pretty fast, and I was back at his place with his huge cock down my throat about an hour after we met.

He was just in Memphis working for a month to help out a friend, so we didn't get a lot of time alone together. He ran sound at a few bars in Midtown and he let me help him sometimes. It was nice to be back around music. I only really felt alive when I had a guitar in my hands.

I tried not to hate myself for letting that part of me slip away for so long.

I got a day job waiting tables at a little Italian place down the street from Peter and Charlotte. They never asked me for rent money, but I helped them out with groceries and bills when I could. They both seemed to get that I had to feel useful, like I was needed and not a charity case.

It was nice and easy for awhile, but it was all too good to last.

Sometimes the ghosts come back to haunt you. In my case, it was more like a chase.

I was never meant to stay in one place.

It hit me when I was sitting by the river one afternoon. I had bonded with the mighty waters like Mark fucking Twain. On my days off I liked to walk along it and just watch it move. It sounds silly to be jealous of a river, but I was. It was always alive and flowing and changing, and I was stuck treading water against the current.

A melody was writing itself in my head when I was interrupted by the sound of a couple arguing.

"Look, Kate. It didn't mean anything!" The man was close to shouting.

"That doesn't matter!" The woman shrieked back.

It was all too familiar.

I remembered all too clearly the night it all came to a head. I remembered trying to sneak out and getting caught before I had a foot out the door. But mostly I remember the look in her eyes when she saw me, glaring at me with such hatred.

Anger.

Disgust.

The empty look in his eyes, though, was a million times worse.

He looked right through me.

As if I was nothing.

I went back to Pete and Char's place feeling defeated. Peter knew something was wrong immediately, but it took me a few shots of whiskey before I could speak without tears threatening to choke me. I poured more whiskey into the glass and took it into the living room. Peter followed me wordlessly and sat down next to me on the couch.

I knew he wanted me to talk about it, to tell him what happened, and I knew he would listen, but there was just too much to tell. Garrett was just one mistake among many, though it was his blank expression that hovered in my mind.

"He was never going to leave her for me," I said softly.

"Jazz," Peter whispered, as he put an arm around me. "Come here."

I curled my body into his, burying my face in his chest.

I couldn't say anything else. I just didn't have it in me. I held onto my best friend and let the tears fall. He didn't offer any pointless platitudes or tell me it was going to be all right, he just rubbed my back until the tears dried up and I found my voice.

"You're the only good man in my life," I finally said.

"You just love me for my doggy-style." I didn't need to look up to see his smirk on his lips.

"I'm trying to be all serious and shit, dude," I shot back.

"Aw, Jazz," he answered.

"It's true and you know it," I said, sitting up.

He peered into my eyes like he was searching for something, the humor draining from his face. "I wish it could be different" was all he could respond.

"You were always Charlotte's." I held up my hand before he could give me a half-assed denial. "It's okay. It's the way it's supposed to be."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I put a finger over it to stop him.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me. Now an- and then, too. I can't ever repay you, you know that."

"You don't owe me nothing, and I won't hear another word about it," he replied, pulling me tighter into a hug.

He knew me so well I didn't need to tell him. It was easier to just pick up and leave that night than to deal with the hassle of "goodbyes."

Nashville was my next stop. It put another couple hundred miles between me and my demons, and that was all right with me.

It was still dark when I got into the city, and it took me awhile to find my destination. I had to stop and ask for directions once, but eventually I got there. I was hoping he'd be home from work and that he'd be alone. I didn't doubt that he wanted to see me, but when I last talked to him about coming up to Nashville, it was just an idea to run by him not a certainty.

As soon as he opened the door, I knew it was all right.

"How's it going, Whitlock?" he asked me with a smile.

"Fair to Midland," I replied with a drawl.

"What's that?" Randall asked me as he eyed me up and down.

"It's a Texas thing," I responded with an easy smile.

He opened the door wider for me and I stepped through.

I dropped my bag near the entryway and turned my attention back to him. He was wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans that hung low on his hips. Randall was bigger than me. It was clear that putting in time at the gym was important to him. He looked fucking good and he knew it, but there was really only one piece of his anatomy I was interested in right then.

"I missed that huge cock of yours like you wouldn't believe."

I stepped forward and pressed my hand against it, then rubbed, feeling it harden.

"I just got home. Was about to hit the shower," he said, raising an eyebrow in invitation.

"Lead the way, big boy," I said, giving his ass a swat.

I followed him to the bathroom, peeling my clothes off as I went. He turned on the water and climbed in, leaving the curtain open for me to follow. He had a bench his shower. After I let the hot water hit my skin for minute, I walked him back a step and sat him down. I leaned forward and grabbed his cock, giving it a few tugs before wrapping my lips around it.

"I want your fucking cock," I told him when I had to come up for breath.

Peter always bottomed as far as I knew, but I didn't have a preference. Some men I wanted to drill, and some men just had cocks that were asking to be ridden.

Randall's was one of those.

"Fuck, I missed that mouth," Randall groaned.

"There'll be time for that in the morning. I've been dreaming about riding this giant dick again since the day you left Memphis."

"It's all yours." He slid forward to give me more room.

I found lube and a rubber easy enough, and then started to stretch myself with my fingers. When I sat on his cock, the stretching sensation and the fullness damn near brought me to tears.

"Your dick is so big," I grunted as I lifted myself up and sat back down. "So fucking big."

"God you're tight," Randall muttered in response.

He grabbed onto my hips to steady me, but he let me do the work, controlling the pace. With a steady stream of "so fucking good" and "right there," I rode Randall fast and hard while the hot water from the shower pounded back on us. When my feet started to slip on shower floor I suggested a change of location.

He helped me stand and we both got out of the shower dripping. When I reached for a towel, he put his hand on my arm to stop me.

"Fuck it. The sheets will dry."

"A man after my own heart," I said, batting my eyelashes at him.

His bedroom was adjacent. I didn't hesitate before crawling onto his bed and lying on my stomach, giving my ass to him.

"Get that big dick of yours over here and finish the job," I called over my shoulder.

The bed shifted with his weight and he helped pull me up to my hands and knees. Without another word, he slammed back into me.

"Oh fuck yeah," I shouted at the little jolt of pain.

He started going steady, but it still wasn't enough.

"Harder. Fuck me harder," I demanded.

He gripped my shoulder, keeping me still, as he picked up the pace.

"That's it," I groaned, starting to lose my breath. "Jesus, I want you to pound my ass so hard I can't fucking walk tomorrow."

He slapped the side of my ass with his hand and then did what I demanded. The only noises he made were grunts of exertion as he pistoned his dick into my ass.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" I was damn near babbling as I brought my hand up to jerk myself off. "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come."

I came so hard, my spunk shot over my hand and onto the sheets. I could feel Randall's rhythm start to give as he fucked me through my orgasm.

"Come on me," I panted. "I want to feel your hot fucking cum all over me."

"Jesus," Randall grunted.

I moved off his dick and flipped over onto my back. He frantically rolled the condom off and knelt between my legs. I reached my hand out and covered his. Together we jerked him off until he was shooting his load onto my stomach and chest.

"That's it," I groaned. "Cover me in it."

"Fucking hell that was good," Randall said as he leaned forward, planting a sloppy kiss on my lips.

We lay there next to each other sweaty and sticky and panting.

"So, you mind if I crash here for awhile?" I asked casually.

Randall laughed.

"You're a clever man, Whitlock. As if I could say 'no' after that."

"There's more where that came from, you know."

"I'll make you a key tomorrow," he said as he rolled over to turn off the light.

Randall not only gave me a key to his place, he hooked me up with a gig at a honky tonk down on Lower Broadway. The guitar player in the house band decided to go back to school and didn't have enough time anymore for it. On weeknights, we hammered out the country tunes I grew up with, and they even let me take the lead vocals on some Garth. I worked in the bar on weekends when it got busy, flirting with women for tips, and I damn near made a mint the night Randall came up to the bar and leaned over to plant a deep kiss on my lips.

If I had known women would pay to see that kind of thing, I would have tried it sooner.

Nashville was different from Memphis, that's for sure. The music scenes were different, but it was more than that, like the people didn't have to live as hard.

It was a good set up, and living with Randall was easy.

We had similar schedules and lifestyles. We both smoked too many cigarettes, had an unexplainable fondness for Jack Daniels and were usually too lazy to cook for ourselves.

It also didn't hurt that I liked getting fucked by him and he liked fucking me.

It was more than that, though. We just understood each other. Maybe it was because we were both musicians or maybe because he had his own case of wanderlust, but he was easy to be around. He was a better guitar player than me, though I'd never admit it out loud. The best nights were the ones when we'd get home late, fuck, and then sit around with our guitars and just jam.

He didn't know my past and I liked it that way. He knew my musical influences, and that was in some ways more intimate. I wouldn't let just anyone listen to my original pressing of _Red Headed Stranger_. That and _At Folsom Prison_ were the only records in my collection I would never hawk for cash.

Sometimes we'd even skip the fucking all together.

"What's your story, Whitlock," he asked me one night over whiskey.

"What do you mean?"

"Everybody's got one." He took a pull on his cigarette.

"Same as everybody else's, I'd guess."

It was obvious he didn't believe me, but he never pushed.

I couldn't forget, though. I could never forget.

This place wasn't a haven or a permanent escape. Every man who came into that bar with a pair of black cowboy boots made me think of him and the way he'd leave his beloved Justins on when we fucked. Every sad song we played tugged a string in my heart, and I knew I couldn't keep it up. I started to pull away from everything, once again starting my retreat.

One night after we played, I saw Randall chatting up some lanky blond boy, and I knew it was time for me to go. I didn't care if Randall wanted another piece of ass. He and were I friends and would stay friends. There were no promises or obligations between us, but I knew that some guys he brought home might not be cool with having me still hanging around his place.

I took that as a sign to take my leave.

The mountains called to me and I headed east. If crossing a river was like a cleansing for me, driving through the Appalachians was like a baptism.

I drove up through Virginia, taking my time. It was the farthest east I'd ever been, and I couldn't get over how green everything was. Eventually I saw the signs for our nation's capital and I knew I had to leave the mountains.

I was a city boy at heart.

I knew Philadelphia was close to D.C., and that's where Alice lived. I was sure she'd welcome me with open arms.

See, sometimes the people you love fail you and sometimes they don't, but what is certain is that they always leave.

I would deny it up and down, but it was Alice leaving that broke the camel's back for me. Without Pete and Char, my life was dark, but without Alice, my life was like a moonless night. I couldn't blame her, though. I couldn't blame any of them for leaving.

I couldn't blame anyone for the bad choices I made.

For the people I chose to trust.

For the days and nights I lost to alcohol and chemicals.

For the scars that littered my body.

Alice wasn't surprised to see me on her doorstep the morning I arrived, even though I hadn't warned her. I asked her for her address a few weeks back, and she knew me well enough to know that it wasn't so I could send her a singing telegram. I had slept in my Bronco at a rest stop the night before, and I'm sure I looked like death warmed over. But she jumped into my arms just the same and planted a wet kiss on my lips.

"Still trying to convert me, I see," I teased.

"You know I stopped all that after I found your porn stash."

She grimaced at the memory as I set her back on her feet.

"Oh come on, I hardly had any really dirty stuff back then."

"It wasn't that!" Alice insisted as she motioned for me to follow her into her row house. "I just realized that if you liked peen _that_ much, there was really no hope for me."

"Ah, yes, my circle jerk phase," I mused.

"Perv," she said, smacking her hand across my chest.

"You love it," I insisted.

"Do I?" She asked.

"You live vicariously and you know it. You wish you had a fine dick like mine."

"Not in the way you mean!" She giggled as she took me on a quick tour through her place.

She had a good job, doing some kind of graphics work, and she lived in a neighborhood she called Powelton Village. It was different from what I used to, far away from the city center and close to universities. I stuck out like a sore thumb from the yuppies and the college kids, but I didn't mind.

When you're trying to run away from yourself, you have to give different a chance.

At least there were a lot of new places to explore.

It was in a 24-hour diner near Alice's house where I saw him, sitting all alone, with reddish hair and pale skin. He was tall and skinny and reading a tattered copy of Kerouac.

"Hey there," I sat down next to him at the counter. "You do know that book's a bunch of self-serving, pretentious crap, right?"

He looked me up and down for a solid minute before he answered, "You do know you're dressed like Peter Fonda in _Easy Rider_."

I glanced down at my leather jacket, black jeans and boots and couldn't help but grin. Boy had a mouth and a wit. A sinful combination.

"Yeah, but I didn't come on a chopper."

"What did you come on?" He smirked back at me, exaggerating the innuendo.

"Well, I'd like come on that pretty face of yours, if you'll let me."

Even though he set me up, his cheeks reddened. I was pretty sure my gaydar was on target, but the blush confirmed it.

Clearly flustered, he coughed and took a sip of his coffee to cover it up.

"That's presumptuous of you, don't you think?" He asked after he swallowed.

"Well now," I paused. "Wait, what's your name?"

"Edward," he replied immediately, blushing even harder at his eagerness.

"Well now, Edward, if you weren't interested in getting those lips of yours painted in my cum, you would have told me to fuck off already."

"Call me old-fashioned, but I don't get facials from men whose names I don't even know."

"Pardon my bad manners," I said, shooting him a smile and sticking out my hand. "Jasper Whitlock at your service."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Jasper Whitlock." My name rolled off his tongue with a cute northern accent. "I'm afraid I'll need a little more to go on before I ask for your services."

"Seven inches. Cut," I offered. "Seven and a half on a good day."

Edward cracked a crooked smile and something surged in me.

"But it's my mouth that's made me famous," I continued.

"Famous?" He echoed skeptically.

I waved my hand in front of his face and then closed it into a fist.

"I can fit this entire fist into my mouth. And if I can do that, think of what other things I can fit in there."

He didn't laugh, but swallowed hard.

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I said I needed more to go on," he recovered.

"You _are_ old-fashioned, aren't you?"

"Let's just say I've learned my lesson."

"Sounds like there's a story there, Edward," I prompted.

"It's a little awkward when you take a man home one night only to find out that he's a student in one of your classes the next day," he supplied.

"You teach?" I asked, trying to cover up my snicker.

"At Drexel," he answered with a nod.

"Well, professor," I drew the word out. "There's not a chance of that happening with me. I'm only a student of life."

"Even so, I've made it a policy not to jump into bed with every handsome stranger who can fit his fist in his mouth."

Part of me wanted to leave the diner right then and try to find an easier target, but a bigger part of me knew that I couldn't. I was drawn in. Hook, line and sinker.

Before we parted ways that night, Edward did give me his phone number, and I learned that his last name was Masen. When I told him I was staying with Alice Brandon, I found out that they were acquaintances. I knew that with a little sweet talking, I could get her to put in a good word for me.

I also had a feeling that I needed it.

Edward made me work for it.

That was definitely new.

At first he really was just a conquest to me, and he knew it. But the more I got to know him, the harder it got for me to look at him as just a piece of ass. He wasn't like any man I had ever met. He was brilliant and passionate and he got really animated when he was talking about something he cared about.

But there was something in eyes that told me he was haunted, too.

When Alice found out that we had met, she was more than thrilled. She took me to social events where she knew Edward would be. She would arrange for us to meet for lunch and then conveniently come up with a reason not to show up.

The only job I could find in the area was working at the diner where Edward and I met. My sleeping schedule was fucked up from my time spent in Nashville, so I had no trouble working the third shift. I played at a couple open mikes around the city on nights I didn't work. Alice dragged Edward to see me play one night and the way his eyes trained on me as I sat up on the stage with my guitar made me sure I wasn't wasting my time.

He would sometimes come into the diner when my shift was ending. We'd sit and eat breakfast together before I went back to Alice's place to crash.

One morning, I was still wide awake after my shift, so Edward took me to his building on campus and let me try out the practice pianos. He had a classical guitar in his office that I picked up and started messing around on. He told me to bring it to one of the classrooms. He sat down on the piano and we played together, picking up on each other's melodies until his students started to drift in for class.

Watching him play the piano was like watching a man jerk off. It was erotic as hell, and I felt like I was looking in on a private moment. He would close his eyes and stick his tongue out ever so slightly in concentration, even though his fingers never once seemed to miss a key.

The things I wanted those fingers to do to me.

Even with all the time we spent together those first few weeks, I still never got to first base with him. The only sign I was even on the playing field with him was the way he would blush and get flustered when I couldn't help but tease him.

Truth be told I did more than tease.

One morning he came into the diner and asked where he could sit. He had obviously just woken up. His hair was still a mess and it looked like he just threw on a pair of jeans he picked up off the floor. In a word, he looked hot.

I just couldn't help but say, "Sit? I'm gonna make you sit on my fat cock and ride it until you forget your name."

"Jasper," he hissed at me, his face blooming bright red.

"The things I would do to you, Edward. I just can't help myself."

I thought I had blown it completely then, but Edward asked me to go see a movie with him the next night I had off.

After the movie was over, he took me back to his place. It was the first time I had been there, which I assumed was a good sign, but when we got inside, Edward surprised me once again by offering me coffee.

And not as a euphemism for sex.

My balls were getting really fucking blue.

"Sit down. Make yourself at home," he offered.

I sat down on the couch and propped my feet up on his coffee table. I considered stripping down naked to see if Edward took the hint, but then, he already knew I wanted to fuck him senseless. I was at a loss as to what the key was for getting into Edward Masen's pants.

"Tell me something about you Jasper," Edward said as he handed me a cup of coffee.

He flopped down next to me on the couch.

"Well, let's see, I have no less than three piercings on my body." I touched the helix at the side of my ear. "I'll let you find the others yourself."

The corner of Edward's lip turned up, but he erased it and gave an exasperated sigh.

"No, Jasper. Something real. Something about who you are. Something that no one else knows."

My entire life, I never felt as naked as I did in that moment. Edward was staring at me, really staring at me. Not at my body, not at my bravado, he was staring at _me_. I could either follow my instinct and hightail it out of his house right then as a conquest failed, or I could give him something I was never able to give anyone else.

I looked at his stony expression and it was only then I understood what he meant.

He was keeping me at arms length because I was doing the exact same thing. Sex _meant_ something to Edward. I was never very discriminating about who I jumped into bed with. It was natural to me to share my body.

Who I was, how I felt, who I had been - those were the things I kept hidden.

Edward wanted that from me the way I wanted his cock.

He was asking me to give him some sign of my vulnerability. He had to know he could trust me with his.

So I took a leap of faith.

"I tried to kill myself once," I said softly. "Not the way I've been trying to kill myself to live ever since, but back when I was a kid."

"Jasper," Edward said so softly I barely heard him.

"I've never said those words aloud before. I mean, my mama found me and called the ambulance. After they pumped my stomach and brought me back to consciousness, I told her it was an accident - that a boy at school gave me bad pills but told me they were something else. I don't think she ever believed me, but it was that night in the hospital I told her I was gay. She was so shocked by my confession, the fact of where we were and why seemed to go away."

"Jasper," Edward said my name again. This time he put his hand on my thigh and gave it a squeeze. "What did she do?"

I cleared my throat, knowing my voice would crack if I didn't calm myself down.

"You don't have to tell me," he said quickly, noticing my discomfort.

I ignored him and continued. "She cried. I had never seen her cry like that before. Worst moment of my entire fucking life, knowing that I made her cry. I wished, well, I wished she hadn't found me. I wished that I could just disappear so she'd never ever have to know that her son was queer. But then she got up and sat down in the hospital bed with me. She put her arms around me and told me she loved me. I must have been crying, because she started apologizing to me. Said she was just shocked that she never suspected. We talked more that night than we had in years. We agreed not to tell my dad, and far as I know she's kept that promise."

"He doesn't know?"

"None of his business either way." I couldn't help my voice from turning cold.

Edward didn't respond right away. I turned to look at him and watched as he turned my confession over in his head. I could see him fighting with the surfacing questions, but he seemed to understand the weight of what I gave him. Even Peter didn't really know why I missed a week of school sophomore year. I was always hanging around with boys I shouldn't, so my story about laced pills wasn't hard to believe.

Finally, Edward made up his mind and turned to face me. He brought his right hand up and cupped my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"Thank you, Jasper," he said solemnly.

"I'm a hard man to get to know," I said truthfully.

"I'd like to try."

It wasn't my only secret, but it was the one I had been hanging onto the longest. I had a feeling it wouldn't be the last one Edward got out of me. Something about the way he looked at me, not with pity, but with understanding and yearning, made me crack.

He could completely disarm me with that expression.

He leaned in and pressed his lips lightly on mine.

I was gone.

It didn't matter anymore that he made me wait weeks, because he was kissing me hard and climbing into my lap. My hands couldn't help themselves and came down to grab his ass. By the way Edward groaned into my mouth and pushed his hips forward until his dick was rubbing against my own, I knew it was okay.

"What are you doing to me, Edward?" I groaned.

"What do you want me to do to you?" He asked.

"Everything," I answered, as his lips came down on my neck. "I want you to lie down on your back and spread your legs and let me fucking worship you with my cock."

I could practically feel his skin flush against me.

I didn't know if what I said worked, but then he stood up and offered his hand to me. Understanding, I took it and we walked down the forbidden hallway into his bedroom.

He shucked his jeans and underwear as I unbuttoned his shirt.

Naked, he turned and walked over to the bed, sprawling across it on his back just like I had said. My clothes were in a pile on the floor in mere seconds.

He eyed me up and down before a burst of laughter spilled from his lips.

"You know, it's not nice to laugh at a naked man."

"You lied," he said, still smiling.

"What?"

"You have more than three piercings," he said, his eyes trailing down my chest and stopping at my dick.

I smiled back at him, remembering what I told him earlier.

"I count both nipples as one," I said as I crawled onto the bed between his legs, lowering myself down to his body.

I kissed him again, more roughly this time, before moving my lips down his chest.

"You're beautiful, Edward," I said. I had never called a man 'beautiful' before, but with Edward, it was true. "So fucking beautiful."

When I reached his cock, I didn't hesitate before putting my mouth around it and taking it deep.

"Oh," Edward moaned and his back arched off the bed.

"I told you," I smirked after I pulled away. "I think this cock of yours was made for my big mouth."

Edward thrust his hips up a little, hitting me in the chin with his dick.

"Oh! Sorry!" he said immediately, the blush spreading across his face once more.

I laughed. "Just for that, I'm going to have to put my mouth to work elsewhere."

He groaned in disappointment until he realized where I was going. When I pressed my tongue flat against his hole, his groan went up about an octave. I wondered if he had ever been rimmed before. Most guys seemed hesitant to try it, but I was always a 'dive right in' type of guy.

"I want to taste you everywhere, Edward," I said between licks. "I want to open you up with my tongue until you're begging for my cock."

As I tongued his hole, he started to squirm and pant. Eventually it sounded like he was trying to speak.

"What's that?" I asked innocently.

"Pl- please."

"Are you begging, Edward?"

"Yes," his voice came out like a hiss.

"You're ready for my cock?"

"Jasper, I want you." He said it so wantonly, all my desire to tease him vanished.

I crawled up his body again, kissing him fiercely once more.

"I didn't come prepared," I said before attacking his ear with my tongue.

"Next to the bed," he managed to get out.

As I stretched across him, he sat up a little and began to kiss my chest. I kept myself propped above him while I sheathed and lubed my dick. It was an awkward position, but his lips were moving toward my nipple. He tugged on my piercing with his teeth, making me scream out, "fucking hell!"

"Sorry," Edward murmured as he put his lips back around my nipple, soothing it with his tongue.

"No, do it again," I moaned.

He took the metal bar between his teeth and pulled once more.

"Fuck, I need to be inside you," I whispered into his ear.

"Tell me," he whispered back.

I started teasing his hole blindly with my fingers as I spoke.

"I need to feel you around me. I need to be close to you. I need you to pull me inside you. I need all of you and it will never be enough, but I'm going to fucking try."

"Yes," he moaned as I finally pressed inside him.

For awhile I just rocked my hips slowly, trying to get deeper and not wanting to pull back even for a second.

"Fuck, you're so tight," I couldn't help but mutter.

And then his hands came around and grabbed my ass, pushing me even further inside.

I took it as a silent sign and sat back on my heels. I helped hold his legs apart while I thrust into him, hard and fast, a running commentary on my lips.

"You feel so fucking good, Edward. So fucking good. I can't hold back. Can't hold back."

His hand came up to his dick, and he started stroking it fast.

"That's right, Edward. Come," I said as he started milking his cock, cum spurting onto his chest while he panted.

Feeling his ass spasm around me and watching him let go was overloading my senses.

"What are you doing to me, Edward?" I moaned.

His long legs came up and wrapped around me, his heels digging into my back as he brought me down to him. His hands were in my hair and his lips and tongue were dancing with mine.

He was everywhere.

"Edward, Edward," I chanted as I came hard, buried deep inside him.

Drained and exhausted, I lost consciousness soon after.

When I woke up, the sun was high, and for a second I thought I was late for work. It took me a minute to realize that not only was it my night off, but that I was in Edward's bed.

Edward, however, was not beside me.

I climbed out of the bed, still completely naked, and dragged myself into Edward's bathroom. After I took a piss and rinsed with some mouthwash, I went to look for Edward.

I found him in his kitchen, standing with a cup of coffee and looking out the window. If he heard me, he didn't turn around, so I took the opportunity to watch him.

He was a sight to behold.

The sunlight streamed through the window, hitting his bare chest. His long fingers were curled around the mug tightly. His hair was damp and messy.

Finally sleeping with him hadn't diminished my attraction or his appeal, but I still couldn't put my finger on the reason why I was so drawn to him. Why I craved his company. Why I wanted to give him more of myself.

That's when it hit me.

My breath caught in my throat.

The feeling suddenly made sense. It was the first time in as long as I could remember that the urge to bolt wasn't tugging at me in the pit of my stomach.

I crossed the small kitchen in a few steps.

"Good morning," I murmured as I wrapped my arms around his body, hugging him to my chest.

"Morning," he replied softly.

I nuzzled the crook of his neck and kissed him softly.

"Stay for breakfast?" He asked.

"Yeah, Edward," I replied. "Yeah, I think I'd like to stay awhile."

The End.


End file.
